To Free a Mate
by Penthesileia
Summary: Not all demons can be conquered. Instead, they must be set free. The Sango/Miroku sequel to 'To Summon a Mate'.
1. Prologue: When Everything Changed

It seems traditional at this point that I post something on Halloween.

**Forgot what happened in TSAM? **

-Team InuKagSan saved Kagome's family, freed Kagura from Naraku's claim, and killed Naraku. Yay! (But there was some ugly drama with one of Sess's political enemies, Ryukotsusei, and the death of Manten, one of the tribunal members.)

-Buttttttt in order to save Team InuKagSan from Kikyo's crazed rage at being thwarted, Miroku offered himself as a willing sacrifice to fuel her sister's resurrection by taking the kazaana. It's a curse that voids the mate ties between demon/human, but slowly sucks the human into another plane...and sometimes lets things out.

It's also a very vital part in a spell that raises the dead. But there's still another piece Kikyo needs before she can begin.

-Sango swore to track Miroku down, kill Kikyo, and _finally _fulfill her duty. What that means for her and Miroku, she'll figure out later.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha and I make no money off this story.**

* * *

><p><strong>When Everything Changed:<strong>

_Over 500 years ago..._

All Kikyo could see was red.

It was splattered against the walls, soaked into the bed linens and spreading across the floor. Her hands and arms were coated in red; completely hiding her skin.

Red was her sister, slowly slipping away.

Their mother wailed again through the paper screen, shaking Kikyo's concentration. She kept her palm firm on her sister's head when she really want to cry out in grief as well, joining her family. But it wasn't allowed.

"You must fix this, Kikyo," Her father hissed. She didn't dare look behind her, already knowing how disappointment looked on his face. "This is your fault girl, so _fix it."_

She had to ignore her own injuries, her own misery and fear. Just focus on fixing her mistake.

"See to mother, father," Kikyo said instead of screaming. "Kaede will be fine." She had to be. _She had to be. _

The rustle of the screen was her answer, the door sliding shut his only offer of forgiveness or luck. Her mother's howling died into a whimper, easily ignored now.

Kikyo wished she could drag Kaede into her lap, hold her close as she talked about her day or her training or the stories she heard, as had become their custom. They would watch the sunset together, chatting and laughing about idle, foolish things.

But as her sister's head was nearly in two pieces, it seemed best she remain flat on her back.

Kikyo could hardly see the red glow of her power against the red stain of Kaede's blood. A tendril of light pumped Kaede's heart, forcing her blood to keep moving, and her lungs to keep inhaling as she set about melding the two pieces of her head back together. It was very delicate work to repair the membrane that kept her brain whole. For anyone else whose sister wasn't a miko, the arrow that burrowed into Kaede's skull would have been fatal.

But this wouldn't be a fatal wound. Kikyo was _not_ going to allow her sister to die of an attack meant for her. Kikyo refused to let it happen. It didn't matter how much sweat coated her skin, how her limbs shook, and how hard her head spun. She was going to save Kaede. She was going to fix her mistake.

There was no other option.

Blindly, Kikyo grabbed Kaede's hand, squeezing hard. "Hear me, Kaede. You have to stay with me. Please, don't leave me." Her voice cracked, vision going hazy. "I can't lose the only person in the world I love because I was a fool."

Kaede's hand remained limp in her grasp, the rest of her body motionless. It was like she was already gone.

Kikyo ruthlessly forced down the sob lodged in her throat. Kaede was not gone. Kikyo could still save her. She just wasn't trying hard enough.

She poured every little bit of power she had into her sister. Red lines blazed across Kaede's brain, bridging pieces back together while the hole in her skull was mended over with new skin and her eye carefully repaired. Kikyo wanted to make sure all trace of the attack was gone, so it was like it never even happened. Even as black spots danced in front of Kikyo's eyes, she had her power smooth over the scar on the back of Kaede's head. When Kaede woke up, she could tell her it had all only been a bad dream.

Kikyo let her sister's hand go to lightly place it over her heart, keeping track of the way her chest moved and beat. Kikyo had never been one for plans, but in this, there was no need for one. There was only one plan, one option. To save her sister.

She couldn't imagine a life without her little sister in it.

Finally, Kaede appeared as if she was peacefully sleeping. Her eye was whole, her skin smooth and every bit of her repaired into one piece. If Kikyo could just wake her up, all would be well and this would just be some terrible nightmare, over now.

Very, very, slowly, Kikyo drew her power away from her chest, allowing Kaede's heart to beat on its own. For a tight, tense moment Kikyo kept her hand hovered over her sister, making sure her heart would work without help. Her lungs continued to fill with air, and her blood pumped through her veins.

Her sister was alive. She had saved her.

She finally let her tears fall, her body shaking from relief. "Oh, thank you god." She ignored the trembling in her arm to reach out and pull her sister into her arms. "Thank you for not taking her from me."

Ignoring the blood that covered them both, Kikyo cradled her sister, gently cupping her cheek. "Kaede? It's time to wake up, sleepyhead. It was all just a nightmare."

Kaede's heart, lungs and blood continued to work. But her body stayed limp.

Kikyo frowned, resisting the urge to shake her sister. "Kaede?"

Nothing. There was no response. Not even a flutter of her eye lashes or a twitch in her limbs.

"_No." _This time, Kikyo frantically shook her, letting her head roll against her shoulder. "Kaede, please!"

Kaede stayed silent. Completely unresponsive to her begging or screaming or cursing. Kikyo was hardly aware of what she was saying, her voice sounding tiny and far away. She just knew that her sister's eyes remained closed, her face blank and slack.

It all came to her in a rush when the paper screen crashed open, their mother sobbing and yanking Kaede from her arms.

"This is my fault. I have to fix this." Kikyo rocked back and forth, staring at Kaede's slack face half hidden by their mother's crying. Her sister didn't respond to her mother's pleas, to the gentle touch of her father's hand or the tears that splattered on her face.

It was all Kikyo's fault. Her sister was dead, because of _her. _

A brief moment of clarity struck through her grief, stilling her. Or maybe it was insanity; it didn't matter anymore.

Kikyo didn't make it a statement, just a vow. "Somehow, I will fix this."

* * *

><p><em>Some odd 500 years later...<em>

All Miroku could see was spots of blurry colors.

The blacklights showed neon splashed and swirled over skin, but the mass of bodies were covered in purple shadow, hiding features. Colored streaks across faces plus the drugs blurring his vision turned the partiers into demons.

"CHUG, CHUG, CHUG!"

Miroku turned the frat boy's cheer into his mantra. The alcohol burned his throat, sending his head reeling. Every swallow a mental 'fuck you' to his father.

He could just barely hear his friends screams over the buzzing in his ears. He was vaguely aware he held his hands up in victory, stumbling when he lost his balance.

Something tugged on his arm. "Miroku, c'mon. You've had enough." Abi slurred, leaning heavily into him. Her pink and blue paint slithered over her face and down her body, tracing lines over her stomach and chest. His eyesight was too hazy to pick up much else. "I wanna go have sum _fun."_

Miroku grinned instead of wincing at heavy smell of the alcohol on her breath. He slid his hand down her back, groping her ass. "We are havin' fun."

She leaned into him, nose nudging at the paint splattered across his neck. "I wanna have sum fun with _you."_

Green dotted her nose. He tried to wipe it away with his thumb, but smeared it over her face instead. "Then let's go."

Abi giggled, plastering herself to his side. "I loveeeeeeeeeeeee you."

Even Miroku wasn't drunk enough to believe her. But if she was going to fuck him, who cared?

"Hey, you guys aren't driving right?" One of his friends asked, still sober enough to be rational.

Miroku patted his shoulder roughly, swaying on his feet. "We'll screw it off in my car. C'mon, Abi."

"See you in class tomorrow, right man?" His friends laughed like that was the funniest thing they had ever heard.

Miroku hadn't gone to class in over three weeks. Why study in college when he could be partying instead?

Miroku flipped him off instead of answering, dragging Abi off to the exit, his hand still firmly on her ass. He squeezed just to hear her squeal, the noise just barely audible over the pounding beat of the club.

No one else stood outside under the flickering lights, the brick building ugly away from the cool air outside swept over him immediately, goosebumps covering his bare skin. Abi shivered, dragging his arm closer around her. It felt clean and refreshing, the grime and heat of the club fading away with the breeze. His buzz faded a bit, his head sharper.

He immediately wished he had taken Abi to a bathroom or a dark corner. He didn't want the fog in his mind to clear now, or _ever. _

"Wanna play a game?" He asked impulsively. Wanting something stupid to cloud his head if alcohol wasn't going to do it.

Abi smirked, tracing her hand over his stomach. "I thought we _were_ gonna play a game?"

"A real one first." Miroku corrected. A crazy idea flirted through his mind, alcohol and disregard making it appealing. "Strip chicken."

Abi burst out laughing, snorting loudly at the name. "Wazz's that?"

"We play chicken over by the curve on the road. First person to move has to take something off."

"YES!" Abi shrieked. "Let's play! I'm totally gonna _beat _you."

Considering all she wore was some paint and one short, tight dress, Miroku was _definitely _winning no matter what happened. "Better prove it then."

"Youuu just wait." Abi boosted, staggering off to the road.

He wouldn't have to wait long. The woman turned into a cursing, panicked maniac over spiders, dogs and dirt. In actual danger, she would be even quicker to react. At the faintest glow of a car beam, she would flinch and run. Forcing her to leave her dress by the side of the road while he found a tree to take her against.

Perfect end to a Wednesday night. Or, knowing drunk Abi, the beginning of a particularly energetic one.

He grinned in anticipation, following Abi up the unpaved driveway off the small college bar, and to the main road. The bar sign was barely on, allowing them some light to see each other in the darkness. She jumped into place, setting herself squarely in the center of the yellow lines. She stuck her hands on her hips, feet apart and chest out. "You just wait 'Roku. I'm not movin' an...an..._anything,"_ She finished, swaying a bit. She still bopped to the beat of the music pounding out from the bar, unable to stand still.

Miroku took his place next to her, sliding his hand back over her ass. The small country roads rarely saw traffic this late at night, even with the college bar hidden around the bend, so while he was waiting to win his game, he planned on enjoying himself in the meantime.

Abi squirmed and giggled under his fingers tracing gentle patterns into her skin, squeezing affectionately every so often. Abi had the finest ass on the entire campus. And he would know.

"You're tryin' to distract me!" she accused, finally wiggling out of his hold. "You stand over there on _that_ side," she pointed to the other side of the yellow line, sliding over further herself. She stood in the center of the left lane now, striking that ridiculous pose again.

Miroku only smirked, knowing at the first _hint _of a headlight, Abi would leap into his arms, screaming her head and her dress off. He drifted closer to the side to humor her, studying the trees that lined the road in preparation of leaning Abi against one.

It couldn't be much longer now. They might be in the middle of a college town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, but they were still right outside a packed bar with half-naked, drunk coeds. A car had to drive along sooner or later.

But now he was getting bored. And every tree was starting to look real appealing. How much longer was this going to take? "Maybe we should start playing a different game-"

Abi slapped his hand away when he stretched it towards her, "No! I'm gonna win this! And then you can win something else," she finished with a drunken smirk.

Miroku returned the grin, his interest growing again. This was why he liked Abi the best out of anyone in his life. She was always up for a good time, ready for anything. Thoroughly uncomplicated and undemanding when it came to anything besides her own pleasure. And right now it pleased her to beat him at his own game, and he liked that a whole lot.

Maybe he should let her win the first round. Just once.

She squealed, bouncing on her heels, at the slow glow beginning to brighten the curve. "Here it comes! You ready, 'Roku?"

"I'm watching you. Better not flinch, Abi." He forced himself to stand straight and unmoving, keeping an eye on the retreating darkness. The coming car was just about to turn the curve of the road, the sound hardly audible over the bar noise.

"Just worry about yourself. I told you, I'm _winning, _and gonna see you standing naked." She giggled, holding her stomach.

Miroku wasn't going to let it get that far. He'd give her his shirt, but that was it.

He forced himself to wait, not wanting to look like he was letting her win this round. The car spun around the curve fast, its bumper barely visible when he threw himself to the side of the road.

Abi waited a moment, smirking in the light, before following him off the main road with a giggle, ignoring the car's blaring horn as it flew past. "HA! This is gonna be easy if you chicken out that fast. Shirt!"

Heart still pounding hard, Miroku drew his shirt off, hoping Abi didn't notice the tremble in his arms. The crazy idiot had actually _waited _even after he chickened. She stood there, daring death, grinning like a reckless fool.

And fucking hell that was _hot_. Forget the rest of the game, he wanted her up against that tree right now_._

"I forfeit," He declared, crowding close to her, "Let's go play a new game."

She played with the waistband of his jeans, pouting. "But I haven't earned these yet."

"There's more than one way to earn your way into my pants," He breathed against her lips, teasing her before backing away completely. He fumbled with his belt buckle, trying to draw her into the forest. He leaned back against a tree, crooking his finger at her. "C'mere."

Her frown dipped lower, hands propped on her hips. She stubbornly planted her feet on gravel road connecting the bar to the highway. "I told you, I wanna _win-"_

And then she was flying up, flipping into the windshield of the car speeding down the driveway of the bar.

Blood splattered across Miroku, dotting his face and chest. The car slammed to a stop, brakes screeching and someone screaming. Abi falling into a slack pile on the road, her body splayed out in strange angles.

"Abi. ABI!" Miroku fell to his knees next to her, his hands hovering helplessly over her broken body. He didn't know how to straighten her arms, turn around her head, to fix her. To try to put her back together.

His stomach turned, a strange roaring filling his ears and a sick realization settling over him. This was his fault. Beautiful, fun Abi was bleeding out on the side of a road outside of a dirty bar because of him.

He threw himself away before he could ruin her further by vomiting on her corpse. Her blood burned hot on his skin, staining his hands.

His. Fault. There was no fixing that.

* * *

><p><em>Where time doesn't exist…<em>

Sango could see nothing.

She kept her eyes sealed tight, unwilling to wake up just yet. She wasn't ready to face awareness yet.

There were no more days, no more nights. Just periods when she was awake, and times when she wasn't. Time no longer meant anything, and she had no idea how long it had been since it mattered.

She had always learned quickly. Sleeping meant unconsciousness. Sleeping meant she wasn't aware of her prison. It was her only possible escape.

Home still existed in her dreams. So she dreamed of her community, the village of demonslayers she grew up with. Her family lived with her in her sleep. She could walk the woods with her father, train with her brother, and fly the skies with Kirara. Every detail of her former life, etched in her mind, painstakingly played out when it was safe for her to remember them.

If she could, she would go to sleep and just never wake up.

Finally, Sango let her eyes drift open, staring up at the plain wooden planks of her prison. There was nothing inside when she came here. Just the pallet she was lying on, and a thin sheet covering the door frame. There was even less 'outside', only a bit of grass surrounding the building that she could jog around in a circle. The grass abruptly ended within a few feet, hitting gray metal walls that curved up into a high ceiling. There was no source of light, yet she could see her surroundings well enough to study them. Well enough to realize there was nothing interesting to study.

Her claws flexed into her pallet, threatening to punch through and tear the fabric apart. But because it was the only thing she had left, she couldn't destroy it.

Instead, she set her claws to the wooden walls.

Outside, she carefully carved designs into the wooden structure as a way to literally whittle away the time. Images, lines and swirls covered the surface, keeping the boredom at bay for just a little bit of her new existence.

Inside was just for her anger.

Wood curls littered the floor, threatening her feet if she hadn't taken to sleeping in her boots just to protect herself from the splinters. Her claws sliced across the walls, dulling her claws as she swallowed her screams. There was no one to hear them and the constant carrying on just hurt her throat.

In the early days of her imprisonment she used to scream herself hoarse, praying for someone to hear her. Praying for something to do.

She attempted to keep track of time by trying to judge how long it took her throat to heal, before quickly realizing there was no point. No light or shadow existed here, no way of figuring out how much time had passed unless she wanted to lay on her pallet and count the seconds aloud. And as time consuming as that had been, it had gotten old fast.

So now she woke up. She slashed up the wood on the inside of her wooden structure. She jogged around the outside of her hut hundreds of times, until she couldn't breathe and had to fall to the grass. Then she would do sit-ups until she couldn't breathe again and fell down again to her back. Then she rolled over and pushed up and down and up and down and up and down endlessly, until her muscles were burning and raw and she was shaking from weariness. Maybe she would carve a bit, if she had a design in mind. But usually, she would drag herself to her pallet, collapse and pray she would sleep longer. Forever.

Instead she woke up, and did the same thing over. And over. And over. And over again.

It was endless. It was monotonous.

It was driving her _insane._

Especially today, or whatever today or tonight or whatever was. Underneath the boredom and the frustration, she had been waking up with a sense of expectation. Expecting what, she had no idea. It wasn't like she had been expecting a whole lot, trapped as she was.

She plucked her claws free of the walls finally, sliding down to sit against the rough surface. Running in thousands of endless circles usually helped her cope with the jittery, restless feeling that _something _was about to happen. But not this time.

Sango stretched her arms out in front of her, shocked at the shaking in her muscles. It wasn't because she had worn herself out already. _Something _was coming. She might not have had much to practice her new demonic instincts on, but everything inside of her was trembling, _waiting. _

And at this point, she was _really_ good at waiting.

She closed her eyes. Breathed in. Breathed out. Forced her tensed body to relax. It wouldn't be much longer now, no matter what it was.

Death. Freedom. She'd even be happy to see Inuyasha or Midoriko again at this point, no matter how angry she was at them. Whatever. She'd face it, if only because it was _new._

And maybe it would be better.

Then she smelled the blood.

She sprang up, uncaring when she ripped the cloth hanging from the doorframe. She threw it on the grass, studying the outside of her hunt. Amazed there was something _to _study.

Little trails of red blood dripped down from the ceiling, running down the metal walls in slow trickles. There was no source. Just blood inexplicably soaking through her prison, coating the steel surrounding her.

The first drop hit the grass. Steam hissed from the ground where it landed, a small black dot appearing. She quickly sidestepped the next one, an identical dot darkening Sango's lawn.

_Dot, dot, dot…_

Sango forced herself to look down. The blood wasn't making black dots in the grass. It was creating _holes. _

Hissing steam swirled around her ankles, the holes larger, the floor feeling weaker under her feet. Blood was raining around her in a steady drip, splattering into her hut. Flame sparked and caught on the roof.

She threw herself out of the structure, fire beginning to eat away the wood.

On her skin, the blood only felt slightly warm, even as it was destroying her prison. She let it drip over her, more concerned with the increasingly larger holes in the ground. She could only see darkness below her. Was she meant to fall forever? Lose the little bit she had even now?

She was tempted to wrap the discarded door hanging around her like a security blanket. Brave the raging fire of her hut to try to rescue her sleeping pallet. Just so she would have _something. _

Instead she drove her claws into her hut, until she could feel them come out the other side. She sawed out a tiny square, small enough to slip inside her boot. So she could feel the rough imprint of her family's names carved out in wood against her skin.

So she would have something_. _

Not just her duty.

There was no point in dragging it out now. She was sick of waiting anyway.

So she jumped.

Darkness surrounded her as she fell. She kept her hands tucked tight to her body, her legs loose and ready to hit the ground.

If there _was _a ground to hit.

Sango felt the jolt of her feet impacting the wooden floor boards beneath them. There was no other warning. One moment she was falling through the dark; then she was falling painfully to her back in a strange wooden structure.

Tears nearly sprang to her eyes before she could stop them. Trapped, _again. _Just in a brand new prison.

Except there hadn't been any boxes piled around in her old hut. The ceiling hadn't been as high, dust hadn't floated in the air and coated the beams, shining in the light of a tiny window set near the ceiling.

There had been no _light._

Her bones ached, her body protesting the hard surface, so she forced herself to rest a moment longer instead of springing up. Dust overpowered her, but she could catch faint hints of flowers. Fresh air. Something disgusting metallic and harsh. Grass had been her only scent in her prison, and all the new scents in this place nearly made her head reel.

But something was making her heart pound. Her hands sweat. She breathed more deeply, cinnamon, and frankincense, settling over her. She felt...comforted by it. For the first time, in what had become her very long existence.

Her expectations were big. And higher than ever. Whatever she had been waiting for...it was here.

A sharp point pressed into her neck. The rest of her body took over. She jerked out from under the sword, allowing the blade to slice her skin as she twisted under it. She grabbed the man's wrist, intending on ripping her sword from his grasp, but found herself frozen instead.

He was _beautiful. _

And not only because he was the first person she had seen in however how long. He looked early twenties, maybe even the age she had been when she was locked away. Longish black hair framed a sharp, intelligent face, thin lips, and large blue eyes. He was slighter than the burly warriors she had grown up around, but she still had to tilt her head back to stare at him, uncomfortably aware she couldn't stop. He was a bit too pretty for her usual tastes. He looked like more of a scholar than a fighter. But there was still something about him that she couldn't tear her gaze away from.

_Miroku….yours. _Something whispered inside her, knowingly. Lovingly. _Mate. You've found him._

Right now, it didn't matter why he had had the sword that imprisoned her, where she was now, or if she still had to complete her final duty from Midoriko. Right now, instinct was guiding her. Right towards him.

"Miroku." She said softly, testing his name, unable to stop the shiver from hearing it aloud. "I've come for you."

Blood teased at her, reminding her just how he had been able to free her. Ignoring her sword still grasped in his hand, she lifted their arms, intent on the gash across his wrist. She hadn't had much experience being a demon, but she _knew _she had to seal them together. Even if she hadn't been trained as a demonslayer, her instinct was insistent on it. Not just to bind them, but to heal him.

Miroku abruptly tore his hand free of her, backing away quickly. His eyes stuck on her claws, her fangs, his face white and terrified.

Sango held her arms up, bloodied palms facing him, "I'm not going to hurt you." She didn't understand the impulse, but she gave into it anyway. "I could never hurt you."

Maybe there was a gift within this curse. Something for her that wasn't just duty. "My name is Sango. I mean you no harm."

He dove for a brown box, searching through it frantically. "Demon…" He muttered. "Demon! Abi still tormenting me."

The sharp twist of jealously distracted her. "I know not who this Abi is, but you are mine to torment now." She had listened enough to Lady Kagura explaining how Lord Sesshomaru 'tormented' her in delicious detail, so Sango knew exactly what to do.

For some reason, that made him pale more, though that was something she understood mates and demons enjoyed together. He jerked a string of pale purple beads out of his strange box, flinging them at her.

They separated in midair, forming tightly around her wrists. Dread turned her stomach, "No-"

"Down!"

The beads jerked hard on her arms, hurling her to the ground. She jerked her wrists, only to find them frozen in place on the wooden floor.

From this angle, it seemed like she hadn't left her prison at all.

It was her fault. She shouldn't have hoped.

* * *

><p>My 10 year anniversary in fanfiction is coming up! Send me any prompts, ideas or suggestions you have on how I can make it special.<p>

Thanks so much for coming back to this universe with me.


	2. Day 103

**MAL: **Thank you! I'm so glad you liked it. And all it takes is a little practice ;)

**Lilli: **Don't worry, Miroku has his reasons for being a jerk. I'll do my best to write, I promise!

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha and I make no money off this story.

* * *

><p><strong>March 1, 2010<strong>

103 days.

Sango let that number settle over her. It was a heavy weight on her shoulders, an uncomfortable awareness she forced herself to carry.

103 days since Miroku had disappeared with Kikyo.

Three months and eleven days. Since Kikyo and Miroku vanished in thin air, leaving no trace behind.

Fourteen weeks and five days. No sign of him or her since.

103 days, lost to Sango. She would carve that number into her brain, obsess over it, _hate _it until 104 days would take its place.

Because 104 was her next number to hate. Today's hunt had been completely unsuccessful, just like the other 102, and there was no reason to believe 104 would be any different. Miroku and Kikyo were just _gone. _It was like once they stepped out of the bakery, Kikyo had whisked them both off the planet. There was nothing to track, nothing to follow. All of her usual tricks were failing her completely.

Sango was rapidly running out of options.

She refused to consider what that might mean for Miroku.

Turning up the collar of her leather jacket against the cold -her one indulgence to Kagura because she was _not _wearing heels- she jogged up the steps of her safe house, checking quickly to see if anyone else was on the street. It was quiet this time of night. Deceptively peaceful. But scanning made her feel like she was doing _something _useful, even if thanks to the safeguards Sesshomaru built into the townhouse, she was the only one who could enter.

Her fingerprint scanned and the cameras satisfied, she pushed into the house, stomping her boots clean of snow. Despite Kagura's threats to come and decorate and fill her wardrobe with items more 'action hero appropriate', the small apartment was just as Sango left it that morning. Nothing in the living room aside from a couch Kirara liked to doze on, a table weighed down with documents, and a map pinned to the wall. The bedroom had one unmade bed. The heeled boots Kagura tried to insist she wear were hidden in the closet, underneath piles of more sensible jeans, shirts, and jackets. The kitchen had exactly three eggs, two pieces of bread, seven cans of cat food and five gallons of coffee. Empty, but functional. So Sesshomaru had been true to his word of keeping Kagura too occupied to 'check in'.

She tossed her jacket on her couch, ignoring the food in the kitchen and just collapsing on her bed, eyes staring up at the ceiling. She kicked her boots off before she was reminded too much of the 500 years she spent trapped in her sword, but didn't bother to work off her jeans or shirt. She didn't want to be too comfortable. She couldn't risk falling asleep.

Her current failure to find Miroku was bad enough. She didn't need to be reminded of her past regrets on top of that.

She'd had one of the dreams so far. She would do just about anything to avoid another one.

But instead of getting up to make a cup of coffee to keep herself awake while she poured over the intelligence Sesshomaru sent over, as she usually spent her nights now, she stayed on her back, staring at the ceiling. 103 days. Sango couldn't get that number out of her head. Miroku had been at Kikyo's mercy, for 103 days.

Maybe she couldn't find him because he was dead. Not just from Kikyo's hand, but from the kazaana.

Sango closed her eyes, breathing deep. She couldn't think like that. She _would _find them. Kikyo would be alive so she could kill her, and Miroku would be alive so she could finally figure out what to do about him.

Because if there was anything to thank Kikyo for, she hadn't had to worry about _that. _All of her attention was focusing on tracking down Kikyo and Miroku. And not sleeping.

She shouldn't have closed her eyes. Demons might not need as much sleep as humans, but she was still pushing it with the constant all nighters. Exhaustion was a close second to the frustration of not finding Miroku.

Kirara lept into the bed and settled in the crook of her arm, purring. Even _that _felt nice. Resting, her eyes closed, with a purring fur ball tucked in close next to her.

Not that she deserved to feel nice. God only knew what conditions Kikyo was putting Miroku through. Could she hope Kikyo would provide a soft bed for him to sleep in? Warm shelter? Someone to care if he died?

Sango pulled Kirara in closer, turning onto her side and ignoring her cat's irritated meowing. No matter what had happened between them, she could guarantee that for him at least, far apart as they were. She would care if he died. No matter what she finally decided about him. She would probably care about him for the rest of her life, as long as it turned out to be once she finally killed Kikyo.

Not that that was worth much. Miroku had offered her his love, and she returned the favor by informing him she had permission to kill him. He probably wouldn't be too impressed to know there was a part of her that 'cared' for him.

Her eyelids felt heavy, her body sluggish. She was just so tired. Maybe if she just snuck in a quick nap, 104 would look a lot better. She'd have a breakthrough, figure something out when she was fresher.

Maybe if she woke up quick enough, the dreams wouldn't be as bad.

Maybe, she would finally be brave enough to consider something besides her duty.

She let sleep wash over her, unresisting for once.

* * *

><p>"You should try this cacciorate. It's <em>divine." <em>Kikyo pushed her plate towards Miroku. "Really. I've never tasted mushrooms this fresh. It's like they plucked them from the forest this morning."

Miroku kept his gaze on the empty wall in front of them, finding that more interesting then when Kikyo was in one of her strangely friendly moods. Like they were two friends on a road trip instead of psychopath and her willing dead man walking. "I'm not hungry."

"You don't understand how delicious this is. Please, you can't die without tasting this dish." Kikyo nudged his own barely touched plate out of the way, putting her pasta right under his nose.

He picked up a fork. There was no fighting her when she was in a cheerful mood. Or any mood at all. He placed a tiny bite on his tongue.

"It's lovely." It tasted like ash to him.

Kikyo beamed, pulling her food back. "See?" She took a much larger bite, her focus back. "They don't look surprised to be kept waiting."

Miroku glanced over at the diners a few tables over, an older man accompanied by a young male who looked like his son. Their own lunches were half eaten in front of them, the older male quietly explaining a file to the son. The two chairs in front of their table were as empty as they'd been when the duo arrived at the hotel restaurant an hour ago. Ten minutes after Miroku and Kikyo.

He half heartedly stabbed at his salad, pushing the leaves around his plate. He scratched at his skin, Kikyo's enchantment still uncomfortably tight. "You don't seem surprised either."

Kikyo waved a hand, "She's usually late. Considering her guardians, she was amazingly unpunctual." She took a sip of water, careful of her lipstick. "But they're used to it as well. These are definitely the people we need."

Miroku held back a sigh, "I'm relieved to know the Maede's fit well into your evil plans."

"Oh, don't be cross. Have another bite." Kikyo pushed the plate towards him again. "You've gotten so sarcastic lately. It's not attractive."

Miroku ignored the offering. "Do I have to be here right now?"

"Just until they show up. One person eating alone attracts notice." She glanced at him, "More even than someone's lunch companion who finds the wall more interesting than her."

"I said I would die for you. I didn't say I would be friends with you." Miroku pointed out, more than a little bitter.

Kikyo nodded, "Fair enough." She looked back at Dr. Maede and Hojo, carefully adjusting her glasses. "Just be patient for a little longer. It won't be long now."

For the Maede's guests to arrive? Or for him to serve his purpose?

He knew without asking it was both.

He almost jerked when Kikyo grabbed his arm, nails digging in. "There they are." She whispered, holding tight, stock still.

Miroku shook her grip off as two people approached the Maede's table. A short, beautiful woman, her dark hair in a ponytail falling over one shoulder and her arms curved around two books. A tall, darker haired male, his arm curved around her side. Keeping her under his shoulder as he scanned the restaurant, passing over the other diners. He paused at Miroku and Kikyo, frowning slightly before being forced to keep up with the woman as she eagerly raced towards Dr. Maede, losing his notice of them.

"That's her. Urasue's apprentice." Kikyo breathed. She stared as the woman hugged Dr. Maede, squeezing Hojo's hand as she was introduced. The man held her chair out for her, all four taking a seat at the table.

Kikyo slid their roomkey across the table, "Charge the meal to the room and do as you will the rest of the day. I'll be back soon."

He took it without a word, no interest in what she was doing.

"Oh, and Miroku?" Kikyo finally broke her attention from the table to look at him. Her glasses might have changed her eyes to blue, but it couldn't hide the cold. "In case you were wondering, Kagome and Inuyasha were in his apartment as of two hours ago, her grandfather was in a temple in the city and Sango? Back to the townhouse Sesshomaru has given her after another day of fruitless searching. It's up to you if your next update on their welfare includes funeral details."

Miroku gritted his teeth, hiding his fists in his lap. "I _hate _you."

Kikyo shrugged, unconcerned. "You're not the first, and you probably won't be the last. Go on. Get some sleep now so you won't wake me up with your screams later."

Miroku jerked back from his chair, uncaring of the loud scrape it made on the wooden floors. The other table didn't even glance at the noise, their heads close together in soft whispers.

He left, not bothering to deal with the bill. What was Kikyo going to do if he ignored her? Kill him?

Ignoring the elevator to pound up the stairs, he bit his lip to keep from screaming. Or crying. He wasn't sure yet how his frustration, anger and fear would boil over. Maybe both, until he was as crazy as Kagome feared her mother to be.

The door to their hotel room bounced off the wall, probably leaving a mark. Miroku couldn't bring himself to care. He threw himself on his bed, leaving on his clothes and shoes. His palm burned and itched, even with its protective covering and prayer beads. He tried to use his hand now as little as possible, as if that would keep the kazaana from growing.

He stared up at the ceiling, arms spread wide across the mattress. He had been with Kikyo over four months now. Three months of following her all over the globe as they avoided Sesshomaru's reach and looked for the final person to complete the spell. Three months of the kazaana slowly eating up more of his skin. Three months of struggling to avoid thoughts of Sango, only for her to haunt his dreams.

Three months of _waiting._

Out of all the horrors and difficulties he'd imagined for himself after swearing his life away, that was by far the hardest.

Miroku forced his eyes to close, his body to go limp. At least with sleep, he could exchange one hardship for another.

He let himself picture Sango in his mind's eye. Remembered the way her brown bangs curled over her forehead, the graceful curve of her neck, and the shape of her eyes. How she used to look up at him, cool and cat-like.

There wasn't often warmth in her gaze. He wished he had tried harder to put it there. He wished he could have done more for her then just dying.

He wished for happy memories of her, even just this once, before he slipped away into sleep.

* * *

><p><em>Dressed in dark robes, Miroku muttered in circles around her, waving some kind of herb that stung her nose. Her sword hung from his belt, out of place with his religious garb.<em>

_For her part, Sango stood with her hands crossed around her chest. Trying to catch his eye to glare at him, but he was too focused on keeping his circle. _

_She resisted the urge to tap her foot, waiting for him to get this over with. Fool that she was to believe he had been serious about wanting to show her the church's stained glass windows at sunrise. She was nowhere near as frivolous as some of the woman of her time, but damn her enchantment with the way the colors blazed in the light. _

_Miroku lasted twenty minutes at his last exorcism before giving up. Hopefully he would get tired soon enough, stomp off in a huff, and leave her in peace to admire the windows on her own. _

_His muttering grew louder now, as he stopped in front of her, both arms raised in the air. He threw the pungent herb at her feet, the smell getting all over her leather. She grimaced and kicked it off, hoping he wouldn't toss holy water on her next. It was too early to be smelly, cold and wet. _

_At least he didn't seem to have any of that oil. It had taken forever to wash out of her hair._

_Miroku's chanting echoed off the church's walls now, some strange mix of Latin and Greek that vaguely sounded like Kirara choking on a hairball. Any moment now he'd be done, and she could ease her bitter disappointment by running her hands under the stained glass shine, turning her skin red, green and gold. _

_He drew her sword out of its sheath, holding the blade in the palm of his hand. She didn't point out that was the wrong way to wield the weapon. She'd learned finally that humans of this era were lacking in the warrior arts, but surely they weren't lacking in common sense as well? _

_He was screaming like a barbarian now, blood dripping out from between his fingers. Candles surrounding the altar suddenly blazed to life, a strange wind picking up around them. Clouds spread in front of the stained windows, hiding the light and color._

_Sango jerked, unease prickling down her spine. This didn't feel like the other exorcisms he had attempted. _

_With one final roar, he touched the flat of the blade to her forehead, grabbing the side of her neck with his bloody palm. _

_The flames sparked wildly, the wind whipping their hair against their skin. His blood was hot on her skin, the metal frightenly cold. _

_And then...everything stopped. _

_The candles died down, the wind disappeared, and the glow from the windows spread across the floor, splashing color against the dark wind. _

_Miroku froze, his grip loosening as the seconds ticked by, and nothing happened. _

_Sango let her sword press harmlessly into her forehead, unable to tear her gaze away from Miroku. She locked her body down before she could start trembling. _

_"__Were you trying to...seal me back into the sword?" She asked softly. Praying for him to say no, that he didn't hate her _that _much._

_He finally stepped away, gently easing the sword and his hand away from her skin. She felt his blood like a brand, slowly dripping down. _

_Miroku looked to the ground, not saying a word._

_She clung to her rage before her grief could sink through. She couldn't bear to cry in front of him. "You bastard!" The words tore at her throat. _

_Her hands closed into fists, shaking despite her attempts to keep still, to keep him from seeing. "I was locked away for 500 years, and you would put me back in that prison?"_

_She couldn't even let herself remember her time in her sword. With that tiny shed, thin pallet and square of grass? The endless gray walls? To return would be to would lose what remained of her mind. "You bastard!" She cried again. She couldn't think of anything worse to call him, to hurt him._

_She squeezed her eyes closed, "I don't understand. We were finally fine yesterday." She didn't know why she tortured herself like this. Surely she couldn't expect one good day between them to really change anything. _

_He still hated her. And she still hated herself._

_His head jerked up, eyes blazing. "You are a demon. You are a _curse. _I can't let myself be trapped by your wicked ways if I have any hope of saving myself."_

_A strange laugh erupted out of her throat when tears burned at her eyes. "You don't even know the _meaning _of trapped, you ignorant fool." She bared her teeth in a mockery of a smile, "Allow me to teach you."_

Before she realized what was happening, his wrist was tight in her grasp, his palm held up for both to see. She didn't look away as she slowly lowered her head.

_And pressed a gentle kiss to his wound, her tongue delicately flickering over the tear. _

_His face paled in horror as his skin knit back together, smooth and whole. Red bloomed in the center of his palm, curving and whirling into her name in kanji. _

_Her grip tightened so hard she was sure he would be bruised. "Now, you are 'trapped'." _

_She let him rip his hand out of her grasp, scrambling back to the altar. She panted and shook, unwilling to acknowledge the horror spreading in her gut. What had she done? What had she done?!_

_Now, he really had something to damn her over._

_She was hardly surprised when he emerged with beads wrapped tight around his marked palm. Let him seal her away. They were both trapped anyway. Better apart for now then together. _

_Mate he might be, she was not going to forgive him for this. Or herself._

Sango clutched her stomach, rocking on her knees. She hated these dreams. She hated this place. Trapped in a small, bare room in her own mind, her most hated memories and regrets playing out in front of her, no matter where she tried to look. Floor, ceiling, walls, it didn't matter. She couldn't escape as long as she was asleep.

And she _hated _this next part. The first time Miroku sealed her away in prayer beads. It had given her nightmares, even before the curse.

She held herself tighter, steeling herself for what came next.

"Sango?"

Sango blinked, confusion replacing the dread. She didn't remember Miroku saying her voice in a questioning, amazed tone like that.

"Sango!"

That relieved, joyed tone definitely hadn't happened either.

Sango looked away from the scene playing out on the wall in front of her, looking over her shoulder.

And standing in the center of the dreamscape, Miroku stared back.


	3. Sango's Dreamscape

**Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha and I make no money off this story.**

* * *

><p><strong>Sango's Dreamscape:<strong>

"...oh my fucking _God." _

Not the most elegant or tender way to greet her long lost mate. A definite clue she was talking to Kagura too long during her weekly updates. But it was the only phrase crossing her mind.

He wasn't supposed to be here. They each had their own demons to bear witness too. Never had she heard of a case of ex-mates appearing in each others dreams. This shouldn't be possible.

Sango blinked hard, wondering if this was a new trick to the dreamscape. Madden her with regrets, torment her with hope. That after 104 days of useless searching, she finally found him. Where she only expected nightmares to be.

Miroku, if it was actually Miroku, looked just as shocked. Ecstatic, but shocked. The expression seemed painfully earnest on his thinner face, his hair falling in tangles almost to his shoulders. A little more food and a haircut, and he would be the Miroku she knew and loved/loathed.

He even wore the same white robes she wore, down to the cut and style of cord that kept the fabric closed. The only new detail was a black fingerless glove over his left hand, purple beads sewn into a swirling pattern over the fabric.

She was afraid to speak again, not sure if she would curse, cry, laugh or attempt some awkward version of all three. But she had to know.

She slowly rose from her crouch, arms falling to her sides. "If you're really Miroku...what kind of tea do I prefer?" Stupid question, but it was the first one to pop into her head.

He twitched, like he wanted to move closer towards her. "Jasmine. You like the way it smells, even if I can never prepare it quite right."

But if he was part of the dreamscape, wouldn't he know all the right answers? It certainly knew which memories to play. She needed to try something else. "Right. Now, where are you?"

Miroku gave her a sad little smile. "Not even a hello?"

"I prefer to say it in person. As soon as you give me a place." At least it would give her a new location to search, even if it was information fed to her by her self-conscience.

The smile instantly got a lot brighter. "Well, now I know you're my Sango. Who else could be that paranoid and focused?"

Paranoid? She preferred competent and careful. But she wasn't going to let him bait her, not now. "If you're really Miroku, you'll tell me where you are."

He walked forward then, stopping with barely a handspan between them. "I'm not going to tell you, Sango."

Frustration rose, even though she still wasn't convinced this wasn't a figment of her imagination, or a dream within a nightmare. "_My _Miroku swore his loyalty to me. He promised to support me, no matter what. He would tell me where he was."

Putting aside the fact her Miroku had also brought prayer beads to the treasury with him, even after he swore to never seal her away again. But she didn't have time to be conflicted about that right now.

"Your Miroku would do that," He lifted his uncovered hand, hovering over her cheek for a moment before pulling away. "But this Miroku made a deal with Kikyo. I intend to carry it out."

She curled her lip stubbornly, "Miroku-"

"Kikyo knows where you live, Sango." Miroku interrupted. "She has Inuyasha and Kagome followed, and she even managed light surveillance on Sesshomaru and Kagura. As long as I cooperate, you're all safe."

"But you're not safe." It burst out of her before she could channel it in a way that would get Miroku confessing. "Not with her. Not with this insane plan to raise her dead sister."

He held up his covered palm between them. "I'm not safe, anyway. Not anymore."

She couldn't look at his hand. "But Kikyo-"

"Don't worry, I'll take care of Kikyo." His fingers flexed. "I'm nearly ready."

Sango felt nauseous at the thought. "We can figure something out. God only knows what else Kagura's failed to mention. There could be a way to reverse the curse. But we'll never know if you don't help me find you."

"You asking me for help." Miroku grinned. "I'm happy I got to live long enough to see that day."

Sango wanted to hack at something. Where were some soul collectors when she needed them? "It's not funny, Miroku."

He sighed. "No. It's not."

She lifted her chin up, "It doesn't matter if you won't help me. I will find you. I might just be in a better mood when I get there."

His lips twisted. "You're never in a good mood."

"I said _better._ I might not be as murderous or furious if I can take a plane out tonight, instead of putting it off a week."

He glanced at his palm. "I'm not sure I even have a week, Sango."

A thought struck her, nearly sending her to her knees. "You're not gone already, are you? That's not why you're here with me?"

His eyes widened, "No! I'm still alive. I'm just sleeping," He glanced around her dreamscape. "I'm not sure either why I'm here."

"Maybe it means there's something wrong with the curse. That we have a chance to reverse it." Sango stepped closer, wishing she was bold enough to grab him. "Tell me where you are, Miroku. I can't do anything stuck where I am now, chasing dead leads."

He was shaking his head before she finished, "I won't, Sango."

"Then tell me why you did _that." _Sango gestured behind them, the wall playing out Miroku standing quietly in the church, holding a pair of prayer beads.

She didn't want to ask, but she had to know. If he wasn't going to give her a place, he could give her an explanation.

Miroku froze, startled. "I…" he looked behind him, trailing off. "I was starting to like you. And that was scaring me."

He tugged at his glove nervously, not meeting her eyes. Watching the man he used to be on the wall. "That day? You made me forget my guilt about Abi, for the first time in years. I didn't think I deserved that kind of peace. You weren't supposed to be another chance, you were supposed to be a punishment."

Miroku cleared his throat, ducking his head. "It sounds ridiculous now. But I thought you were luring me away from redemption, trying to turn me back into someone who could cause such a senseless death."

That should have softened her resentment, but it annoyed her instead. "No one can turn anyone into anything. You make your own choices in the end." Sango suddenly huffed, "And I don't know what you were so worried about. You were tormenting yourself well enough that you didn't need me as another 'punishment'."

He smiled sadly, "I know that now. But even that felt too easy. Expelled from school, a few months of jail and some community service? Abi died because I was drunk and stupid. I should have gotten worse than that."

From what she remembered, it had been more like a year in prison and numerous tours to schools and organizations to display himself as a cautionary tale before he decided to enter the seminary. But she knew how guilt wouldn't have made that feel like enough.

Miroku was silent for a moment. "I grew up listening to my father's warnings about temptation. How the devil tricked you by offering everything you ever dreamed you wanted."

He finally met her eyes. "You were better than my dreams. It seemed too good to be true."

_That _softened her, warmed a tiny bit of her hurt. She understood suspicion. "So what made you eventually release me?" He easily could have kept her sealed away forever. He had already wanted to by trying to put her back in her sword.

"I read accounts of other demons dying from being sealed too long. As scared and angry as I was, as sure as I was you were some evil, malicious hell creature...I didn't want to hurt you either." He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "We're just a pair of contradictions, aren't we?"

He took a deep breath. "I'm truly sorry Sango. If I had really understood you, it never would have happened."

Sango considered him for a moment, something within her...settling. "Thank you, Miroku." She hesitated, but continued to feel the need to offer him an olive branch. "I'm sorry for the times I preyed on your fears and acted the part. You weren't the only one angry and lashing out."

She stared into his eyes, feeling a little lighter now. This was...nice. That was the word she wanted to use to describe this. They should have done this before Miroku swore his life to a crazed maniac and voided the ties between them.

Miroku's gaze finally flicked over her shoulder after a long moment, breaking the connection. "Sango. Look at the wall."

She didn't want to ruin the moment between them with old mistakes, but he looked awed instead of ashamed. So she moved to stand by him, wanting to watch together what had him so impressed.

The dreamscape rewound her memory, starting from the moment Miroku's attempted sealing failed. The wall showed past Miroku and Sango staring at each, anger and distrust rigid in both their bodies. Unwillingly, Sango found herself being drawn back in, currently forgetting the man by her side.

_"__Were you trying to...seal me back into the sword?" She asked softly. Praying for him to say no, that he didn't hate her _that _much._

_He finally stepped away, gently easing the sword and his hand away from her skin. She felt his blood like a brand, slowly dripping down. _

_Miroku met her eyes, shocked. "Of course not! I would never send you back to that place." He seemed outraged, like he couldn't believe she'd think that of him. _

_He sighed, looking down at her sword. "I was trying to seal _myself _inside." He shifted, almost embarassed. "I wanted to understand what it was like for you."_

_Sango had no idea how to respond to that. Was he senseless after all? Or unbearably kind?_

_"__Not for 500 years!" He was quick to add, "So of course, I wouldn't really 'get' it. But I wanted even some small idea of what you had been through." He rubbed the back of his neck, "Maybe that's a little strange to you. We haven't been on the best terms."_

_"__Miroku." That seemed to be the only thing she remembered how to say. _

_So she let instinct guide her. She reached out for him, waiting patiently until he carefully placed his wounded hand in hers. _

_She kissed his palm, quickly flickering her tongue against the slash. Smiled against her mark as it bloomed across his skin._

_"__Thank you," Sango finally said. _

Then the wall went completely blank, leaving Sango and Miroku surrounded in a room with empty white walls.

"...Do you think we really could have been like that?" Miroku's question was barely a whisper.

Sango swallowed. Hard. "Maybe that was our ideal. But I'm sure it wouldn't have gone so smoothly." She glanced over at him then. "I would have asked if it had been necessary to throw those rancid herbs at me. Ruin the moment completely."

Miroku grinned, "I would have assumed you wanted your sword back so you could run me through with it."

"Would you have given it to me?" Sango was curious. He had offered later to let her use him as a punching bag.

"Of course not. I'm too attractive to be slashed up by a sword. Even yours"

Laughter ripped out of her throat before she realized it was happening. It felt rusty and rough but...nice. A little warm. When had she laughed last?

At Inuyasha's tribunal. It seemed like bad jokes were her weakness.

Or maybe she was just cracking up.

_Ring. Ring. Ringggggggggggg_

"Do you hear that?" Miroku asked.

"Yes." Sango's brows furrowed, the ringing growing louder. "It sounds like...my cell phone?"

His eyes widened, "You're starting to fade."

Sango held up her hands, and could see Miroku through them. "I must be waking up," She met his eyes, brushing all laughter aside. "Last chance. Tell me where you are."

He only shook his head.

She bit back the frustration she wanted to spit at him. It would be better fuel for her hunt.

So she stared at him instead. Memorized the lines of his jaw, the fall of his hair, the shape of his eye. Wanting something to blaze in her mind if she never saw him again in the dreamscape.

Because she _would_ find him awake.

And woke alone in her bedroom, phone ringing in her ear.

* * *

><p>With over 500 years of experience, there was very little Kikyo was bad at.<p>

Between working on her plans, waiting for the Higurashi miko heir and keeping an eye out for kazaanza cursed mates, she had time to practice anything that might be useful. Psychology. Extracting information. Decimal outlines. All very worth her time.

But some of her favorite tools? Tracking spells.

And traditional Brazilian cooking, but she didn't think Urasue's apprentice would appreciate her skills there.

Kikyo slowly followed the glowing red trail, hands resting in her pockets and shoes tapping along the pavement. She should have ditched the heels along with the Saito identity, but she couldn't help herself. She loved the clicking and clacking. Like a constant announcement of her presence.

And the red leather was the exact shade of her power signature. Not that anyone else could see that without her bespelled glasses, so she'd have to admire it all alone. At least until she had Kaede.

The younger girl used to be so envious of silk hair ribbons and softer shoes. Kikyo couldn't wait to take her to Rodeo Drive.

Now that she had finally found her last piece, things could go much more quickly. She could be shopping with Kaede by the end of the month. Once she claimed her favor, secured their location and supplies...maybe even within two weeks.

She let a long, slow smile curve her lips. This was...satisfaction. To finally, truly, be so close to her goal. It was all on the end of the tracking spell Kikyo carefully shot to the edge of her skirt. The woman hadn't even flinched when it brushed her leg. Probably assumed it was her companion.

It was a shame that she had gotten so complacent after five centuries on the run. Urasue would be disappointed in her young apprentice. How she had managed to avoid Sesshomaru, she had no idea.

But her laziness was Kikyo's gain. And she _always_ took advantage of other people's failings.

The red trail wound up and down streets, until Kikyo found it disappearing through a door to a small, unassuming villa on the outskirts of the city. Buildings spanned one side, and trees the other. There were plenty of options for an escape. So maybe they hadn't gotten as soft as she suspected.

She stopped just outside the door, brushing gently over the wooden door. This was it. _This was actually it. _The culmination of over 500 years of planning and scheming and work.

She was _finally _going to set things right.

Kikyo drew her glasses off, tucking them in the collar of her shirt. She smoothed her hair, straightened her jacket. Reached out and knocked sharply on the door.

She laced her fingers together in front of her to appear unthreatening and fixed on her most charming smile.

The door swung open. Kikyo doubted she had even looked through the peephole. And she looked too stunned to slam it back closed, her brown eyes wide with shock and her mouth dropping.

Oh well. Her gain.

Kikyo's smile felt genuine for once. "Hello Rin."


	4. Day 104

**Mal: **Well thank _you _for reading and reviewing.

**Lilli: **I still haven't made a final decision about what to do with TSAM. Right now I'm focused on having fun editing. And when it wasn't fun anymore, I took a break to come to fanfiction for a bit. But thanks for wanting to buy a copy.

**Guest (11/15): **You flatterer, you (Blush) Thank you! I'm so happy you're enjoying this so far, especially since you're not a big San/Mir fan. Normally I'm not either, but I didn't think TSAM was a long enough story for the three of them. So here we are now. And thank you so much for sticking with me this long!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha and I make no money off this story. **

* * *

><p><strong>Day 104<strong>

Sango snatched the phone up, instantly alert. "Kagura."

"Hi honey pie!"

Sango nearly crushed her cell, "You've already tried that one before."

"I know, but I thought it might feel different today. Don't worry, I'll figure out a nickname for you yet!"

It was too bad the Pope couldn't acknowledge their existence. Otherwise, Sesshomaru could be canonized for putting up with Kagura all these years. No time for that now though. "I have something to report. I went to sleep last night-"

"_Finally_. I was getting worried about you."

"-and Miroku was in the dreamscape. With me."

Kagura fell silent. _Finally. _"...when you say was with you..."

"Not a memory, not a regret, not a nightmare. Actual, real Miroku, in that room, with me." Sango clarified.

"...huh. Looks like Kag isn't the only weird case." Kagura sighed, "As much as I love the bursts of excitement you bring into my life, I just got done rewriting the handbook again."

Kirara hopped up onto the bed, eyes wide and pitiful with a significant glance towards her empty food dish. Sango dragged herself up, actually feeling hungry herself, "But is it possible?"

"I haven't come across any instances of it, but it's not like there's been a ton of humans who've taken the kazaana. We only have so many eyewitness reports, and most of them before archivists or researchers were a thing." Kagura paused for a moment, clicking filling the silence. "The interns I hired to track down Urasue's lost papers are finally starting to turn some up. She would probably have the most information about kazaana-hit humans since she used them so much. Can you check to see if Miroku still has any of it left at his place?"

Sango's throat tightened up. She hadn't been back there since the treasury battle. "You didn't have your people empty it out?"

"Your guy has an insane amount of books and papers. It would have looked strange to have an empty house if he's only on a 'brief sabbatical to Iceland'." Kagura snorted, "I don't know how Sess thinks up this stuff."

Sango stayed silent, focusing on putting wet food out for Kirara.

The clicking stopped. "Damn it Sango, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. Would it be easier to send an intern over? God knows that's why I have them."

Sango tapped the can sharply against Kirara's bowl, letting the wet bits of meat slop out instead of responding.

"I just figured you might know where he kept certain things but I doubt you want to go back there. Don't even worry about it, the interns have nothing better to do. It'll be a learning experience they'll never forget! And if one or two of them gets crushed under a stack of books, it's a good thing I had over a hundred applicants."

"Thank you, Kagura." Sango finally said.

"Anytime, snickerdoodle."

Sango didn't even try to hold back her groan.

"You're right, that one doesn't fit you either." Kagura paused again. "Since you're not asking for a plane ticket, he must not have told you where he is. Do you have any ideas where to start looking?"

"Not yet." Sango flicked on her coffee machine, "But I will."

* * *

><p>The last night Kikyo had seen Rin, she looked like a sweet, innocent girl of nineteen. She might have been about to set out on her run to avoid Sesshomaru and the various death-qualifying charges for the next 500 years, but she'd still had a youthful glow to her.<p>

Now she looked all of twenty-five. Her long, brown hair was pulled into a side ponytail, shining with health. Her skin was smooth and tan from her centuries of traveling. She was maybe even an inch taller, though still ridiculously short. All in all, she did not look like the old crone Kikyo expected her to be.

Kikyo briefly wondered what deal with the devil _she _had made.

Except she hadn't, had she? Rin didn't have to trade for her power or vitality at all. The smile threatened to slip. If Kikyo had had any idea all those years ago she was Midoriko and Naraku's offspring…

But she hadn't and there was no point in dwelling on it now. So she kept her smile firmly on her face. Start off friendly. Save the unpleasantness in case she didn't cooperate. "Don't tell me you've forgotten about me-"

"Lady Kikyo," Rin seemed to go even paler, "I never expected-"

"For me to still be alive?" Kikyo finished for her. "And yet, here I am. May I come in? It's been so long and we have much to discuss."

Wordlessly, Rin stepped back, like she wasn't the more powerful being between them.

So she _still _had trouble controlling her power. Kikyo was just getting gain on top of gain.

But then again, Rin didn't know who her true father was.

Before that could ruin Kikyo's mood, she stepped inside the modest house. Clearly a rental though. If it was really Rin's, there would be color and flowers covering every surface, instead of this tastefully bland furniture. At one point, Urasue's lab had looked like 14th century's version of Kesha had thrown up in it.

"You're looking well," Kikyo took a seat on the armchair, leaving the loveseat for Rin and her man whenever he decided to show up. "Running for your life agrees with you."

"Thank you. You look...very alive." Rin finished, "I'm sorry, I'm being so rude right now, but I never thought I would see you again. I heard news of your death soon after we left."

"I had things to do and no time for death." Kikyo casually crossed her legs, resting her hands in her lap. "I worried about you and your husband after that night. Do you still think of it?"

Rin sighed, "Just get to the point, Lady Kikyo."

So like her adopted father, without any of his eloquence. Though she was lucky not to speak like a common barmaid like her mother. "I'm here because-"

"Rin?" The male voice echoed off the walls, "What's going on?"

"Handsome!" Rin nearly vaulted out of her chair towards the tall, dark-haired man in the doorway of the living room, scowling at Kikyo. She wished she remembered his name. Because she doubted it was 'handsome'. Another unfortunate side effect of the maternal influence, no doubt.

"Handsome" appeared just as she remembered from that night. Tall. Burly. Rough body with a surprisingly gentle face. Even his hair was the same, shoulder length and tied up. She wasn't sure how he had escaped notice looking like that.

Rin grasped her man's forearms, "Give me a few minutes. She won't be staying long."

Handsome didn't take his eyes off Kikyo, "I'd feel more comfortable-

"I'll be fine. If she does anything, it'll give me a good chance to practice what Dr. Maede recommended today." Rin stretched up on her toes, still only able to reach the hollow of his throat with her lips. "I promise, honey."

Kikyo just barely kept down her cacciatore. These two were worst then Inuyasha and Kagome. "I mean no harm to your wife. We're just chatting."

Handsome didn't seem convinced, "Just remember I'm doing this under duress and I get full rights to say "I told you so" later." He kissed the top of her head, lingering until Kikyo cleared her throat. "Scream if you need me."

Rin beamed up at him, "Always."

Still acting like a pair of love-sick puppies, even after all this time. No wonder Rin's guardians had been worried.

Kikyo politely waited until Handsome left the room. "I won't waste your or my time then, Rin. I'm here to collect my favor."

Rin settled back into her couch, hands tangling nervously into her long hair. She twisted the strands between her fingers. "I know I owe you everything, Lady Kikyo. I just hope what you ask, I can fulfill without compromising my principles."

Just as moralistic as ever. Rin hadn't changed at all. What a pity for her. "I promise it's not anything you haven't done before, and all participants are willing." Kikyo leaned forward, savoring this moment. "I want you to resurrect my sister."

To Kikyo's disappointment, Rin didn't look very surprised. "I remember you petitioning to Urasue," she said carefully, leaving out that Kikyo had been refused. Three times.

What Kikyo had in esteem, she lacked in wealth. She had never been able to afford Urasue's price. Not even the promise of having a powerful miko in her debt had been enough to sway Urasue, and she had had no weakness for Kikyo to exploit. Not until Rin, but she had always been untouchable, even to Kikyo's plans.

The reminder burned in her gut. She forced herself to smile through it. "And now I'm petitioning you. I have the space, I can get you the materials, and I can supply the human. I just need you for the last part of the spell."

Rin's eyes widened, "You found someone who took the kazaanza?"

"Yes, and he was quite happy to, and very eager to help out." Rin didn't need to know he traded his life for the lives of his friends. "Do this for me, and we'll be even."

Rin was silent for a moment, glancing towards the doorway. "He doesn't know why I owe you. We'd have to come up with another excuse."

Kikyo waved a hand, "I don't care what you tell your husband. He won't hear the truth from me."

Hesitation still. "...and you won't give me away?"

Kikyo snorted, "Like I care that your adopted parents are currently hunting you down for high treason, aiding and abetting, obstruction of justice, breaking the majority of the universal laws that govern our world, etc etc. I'm not interested in turning you in to Sesshomaru and Kagura."

That didn't seem to make her any happier, "Then I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

No, she didn't. But there was no use in pointing that out unless Kikyo wanted Kaede brought back with an extra limb or missing a nose. "Wonderful! I'm so pleased to be working with you."

Rin scowled, "I'm doing this because of my husband, not because of you." She gave her a long, considering look. "Urasue told me how miko's could extend their lives. It's not natural."

"Don't forget dear, you're alive too." Kikyo stood up, smoothing down her skirt. "Should I be questioning your methods, as well?"

Rin flushed, "It just happened."

It happened because she was a half demon who had no idea she was a half demon. But Kikyo wasn't about to tell her that. "I have a location for you out in the countryside. It's very secluded, very private. Give me a list of what you need and I'll ensure you have it by tomorrow."

"It's still not a very complicated process. Clay. Water." Rin hesitated, "Ash."

Kikyo smiled coolly, "And you'll have it." She slipped out a small piece of paper from her jacket pocket, "Here's the address. Memorize it and destroy that."

Rin didn't reach for it. "You have to be considerate of my medical needs as well. That's why I'm here, after all."

Of all the excuses…"I highly doubt your Dr. Maede is planning on keeping you locked up in a hospital all day, even if he is training his son to take over your care. Take care of your errands in the morning, and tend to mine at evening." Was she the only one who ever planned things?

Rin hesitated so long Kikyo nearly screamed.

Finally, she took the slip, barely glanced at it, before carelessly crumpling it up. The ball of paper burst into flame, dying to ash on her palm. "Lady Kikyo...are you sure you want to do this?"

Kikyo didn't need to reconsider, "It's all I've ever wanted."

And she was finally going to make it happen.

* * *

><p><em>Miroku was drowning out of water. <em>

_He curled in on himself, sweat clammy on his skin. Grief pressed him down. Regret squeezed his throat. _

_Whenever he closed his eyes, he could see Abi in the air. Remembered the way she hit the ground, limbs splayed in wrong angles. _

_Wonderful, fun-loving Abi. She might have seemed shallow to some, but she was care less. Free. Nothing and no one held her down. He admired that. _

_And now she was dead. _

_Because of him. _

_Air seemed hard to find. He could only pant against the wooden floors, heart pounding fast and head light. He crushed his cheek to the cold wood, needing some anchor. He stretched out so his fingertips could dig into the floor instead of his skin. _

_Pain was a constant. Anger, grief, regret. It all hurt. And he deserved it all._

_He deserved more of it. That's why that demon sprung out of his family's old heirloom sword. To taunt him. To torment him. Appear as everything he'd ever wanted and couldn't have now. Monster for a monster. _

_His father had warned him. He would be punished for his wicked ways. When he wasn't dutiful or obedient, it gave power to demons. When he was sinful, he invited them into his soul. _

_Sango was his curse. After years of giving into his own wants, his own desires, he'd been given what he really needed. But she wasn't really his to have. _

_It was a trick. He deserved nothing less. _

_He wasn't worthy of the promise of her. It was just a trap-  
><em>

**SLAM**

Miroku jerked awake, finding himself sprawled awkwardly on his stomach. Sweat was still sticky on his skin, his hands aching from how hard they clutched his sheets.

Kikyo only raised an eyebrow, tossing her keycard on the nightstand. "Don't you look well rested."

Miroku carefully sat up, heart still racing and shaky, "Never better." Even if his dreamscape had erupted into memories of one of his frequent panic attacks after Sango woken and left the dreamscape. Because Sango had been there to leave him at all.

Kagura might not agree, but that was a good night's sleep in his book.

Sango, in the dreamscape, with him. He had been scared his last image of her would be that weak, dying shell Kikyo had turned her into.

She seemed to be fully recovered from the poison, like Kikyo promised. Still so beautiful his heart ached, even if she was paler and harder then he remembered. She clearly hadn't been spending their time apart calm and relaxing.

Kikyo dropped down on the bed opposite from him, sliding off her shoes with a long groan, "God that feels good. You'd think after everything else they invented in this century, they'd come up with a comfortable high heeled shoe."

If Miroku ever saw Kagura again, he'd have to point out how much in common she had with Kikyo. It might get him beheaded by Sesshomaru, but it could be worth it just to see the look on her face.

Kikyo rubbed her foot, relaxing back into her pillows, "I found Rin. We start preparing for the spell tomorrow night."

Miroku wasn't sure how to respond. He was still high from seeing Sango, and trembling from the dream.

"So I'll be gone all day tomorrow gathering supplies. You'll have to entertain yourself for the time being." Kikyo shot him a look, "Don't worry, if I need you, I'll find you."

"I was so worried." Miroku deadpanned.

Kikyo rolled her eyes, "_So _snarky. Lose the attitude before I dig out a muting spell." She slipped her jacket off, before dropping back onto the pillows. "You've had your beauty rest, now I need mine. Get out."

Like he needed any prompting. Miroku was out of their hotel room before she could turn the lights off.

He wandered the halls of the hotel, not sure where to go and still dazed from the dreamscape. Numb to the fact that soon, the spell would be performed and he would have outlived his usefulness.

What was he supposed to do in the meantime? Write a will? Send letters to his old friends? Make his peace with his parents? Try to sleep as much as possible so he could see Sango again?

Instead, he ducked into an empty conference room. Poked around until he found a box of pencils and a basketful of forgotten apples.

He lined the pencils in a careful row on the floor. He sat at the front of it, pulling his glove off his hand.

The kazaanza sucked the first six in immediately. The seventh and eighth wobbled stubbornly before rolling towards the force. The ninth didn't move at all.

Miroku frowned. The black hole needed to be more powerful before it could come close to sucking an entire person in. Right now it felt more like a Hoover.

Miroku grabbed an apple with his cursed hand. The kazaanza burned and stretched, forcing the hole bigger until the apple could slip through.

This time, the seventh, eighth and ninth pencil went through.

Miroku took two apples this time. There was going to be no absolution or peace for him. No Sango either, in case she sweet talked or blackmailed his location out of him.

But he could still do this. He wasn't going to be the only one to die by his hand.

* * *

><p>I'm still working on the next chapter. Review lots to make sure I'm plenty motivated to finish it on time!<p> 


End file.
